


A Study in Grimm

by Aurora_bee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Grimm - Freeform, Wesen, Wesen Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3270206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_bee/pseuds/Aurora_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock the Grimm way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Grimm

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I have ever done a cross over fic, please let me know what you think.

It was now becoming normal for John Watson to wake up covered in sweat after a dream about the Afghani war. It was if his mind was making torturing him because he couldn't function properly any more. He sighed, wiped the sweat from his brow and decided to get up, he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep again.

As the street light filtered in through the cheep polyester curtains John made himself a cup of tea and contemplated his new life. He was about as useless as a bow with no fiddle, no longer able to do what he was meant to. His leg constantly ached and when he tried to put weight on it, it would collapse underneath him.

John's army issue gun sat in the drawer in his desk, a temptation he looked at each day. Somehow a tiny speck of hope that his special talent could be useful in the back of his mind was the only thing that stopped him from using it on himself. 

Finally as the daylight appeared and the streetlights dulled John pulled himself together and struggled over to his tiny cupboard to get out his clothes for the day. A ten thirty appointment with his therapist would at least stop him moping and get him out of the flat for a few hours.

 

After an hour of therapy that only seemed to irritate him and put him into a foul mood he decided to clear his head and take a walk through Leicester Square Gardens. Five minutes into his stroll he heard a familiar voice.

"John, John Watson," a stout little man called. "Stamford, Mike Stamford, we were at Barts together!"

"Yes sorry Mike," John replied taking his offered hand and shaking it.

 

Two hours and a large lunch in the Criterion restaurant later John found himself in St Bart's lab, having been wrangled into a possible flat share by Mike. He'd forgotten how kind his friend was and regretted having lost contact with him. Already John found himself feeling a little better.

"Well, bit different from my day," John said looking at the modern equipment around him. 

"You’ve no idea!" Mike chuckled. A man with dark curly hair sat at the other end of the room who had been looking down a microscope, looked toward them.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There’s no signal on mine," the man asked looking at Mike expectantly, John caught a glimpse of something in his eye and stood straighter recognising a possible threat.

"And what’s wrong with the landline?" Mike asked.

"I prefer to text," the man replied.

"Sorry. It’s in my coat," Mike grumbled as he patted himself down. The man rolled his eyes. "I'll go and get it," Mike said resigned as he hurried out of the room. The man watched Mike exit then starred at John unnerving him. For a moment John felt like he was being scanned like an Alien ship on Star Trek.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" The man asked. 

"Sorry?" John replied frowning, his grip tightening on his crutch.

"Which was it? Afghanistan or Iraq?" The man repeated with a touch of irritation.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know?" John asked his eyebrows knitting together in intrigue rather than the feeling of unease he had when he'd first seen the man's eyes.

"How do you feel about the violin?" The man asked choosing not to answer John's question.

"I’m sorry, what?" John almost stuttered surprised at the audacity of the man.

"I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end," the man looked at John, an obvious ethereal glow in his iridescent eyes. "Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

"Who said anything about flatmates?" John said in surprise. The man picked up his blue scarf and wrapped it around his neck.

"I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn’t that difficult a leap," the man said as he pulled on his long woollen coat.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked only to be ignored again.

"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it." The man continued as he walked towards the door. "We’ll meet there tomorrow evening, seven o’clock. Sorry, gotta dash, I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

"Is that it?" John snapped staring at the man's back. "We’ve only just met and we’re gonna go and look at a flat?"

"Problem?" The man asked turning around. John smiled in disbelief at the man. 

"We don’t know a thing about each other, I don’t know where we’re meeting, I don’t know your name. You're also a Wesen." The man looked at John before answering all his questions with gusto.

"I know you’re an Army doctor and you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know that your therapist thinks your limp’s psychosomatic, quite correctly I’m afraid. And I know that you're a Grimm, that’s enough to be going on with, don’t you think?" The man turned to the door again, opening it and going through, before sticking his head back in. "The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is two, two, one B Baker Street." He gave John a wink and walked past Mike who was hurrying toward him with his phone in his hand ignoring him.

"He’s always like that." Mike said with a sigh as he entered the room and saw the look on John's face.

"You could have told me he was a Wesen," John replied with a frown.

"He's a Wesen?" Mike said shocked. "Well that would explain a lot of things." Mike's face transformed betraying his feelings. John smirked knowingly, Mike had always been prone to woge and not notice when surprised. 

"Mike your beaver's showing again." John gigged, slapping the other man on the back.

**Author's Note:**

> Wesen- (pronunciation: VAY-zin, Grimm: VES-sin; Germ. "a being", here "creature"; Spanish: espiritu bestia "spirit beast") is a collective term used to describe the creatures visible to the Grimms.
> 
> Woge- Woge (VOH-gə; German noun meaning a high, powerful wave of water; a large undulating mass of something) is the act of changing between human and Wesen form.
> 
> Grimm- Someone who can see Wesen when Woged.
> 
> Here is a link to the Grimm Wiki http://grimm.wikia.com/wiki/Wesen


End file.
